


Your Pretty Hair

by rosymamacita



Series: Arcadia [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Speculation, kiss kiss, s3 promo hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got a prompt</p><p>'Rosy! Rosy! Imagine Clarke kissing Bellamy's dimple, the one in his chin! She's overcome with the want to kiss him but doesn't want to kiss him on the lips. Shes looking for something different, and for that she needs to start elsewhere. "Here"'</p><p>mmmm…okay!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Pretty Hair

Clarke could feel Bellamy’s tears trickle down her neck as he held on, tightly. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling right, for the first time in a long time. They could just be, the two of them.

She felt a smile on her lips, a foreign thing. She let her happiness exist. reveling in it. His warmth soothed her, the strength in his arms, the smell of his skin.

It took her a while to realize that his tears had subsided and he was combing his fingers through her hair.

She pulled back to look at him, still holding onto his shoulders. He held a lock of her hair in his fingers.

“I missed your pretty hair,” he said. 

She dropped her eyes embarrassed, remembering the tortured, tangled hair she’d worn last time she saw him. Feeling uncomfortable about who she’d been then, not really understanding her own self.

He let go of her hair and his hands fell to his lap. “I missed you,” he said. 

She looked up to catch his eyes, but he was already staring off, over her head, at the shadows. 

She felt a burning urge, a desire to…something. She needed something from him. She needed to give something to him, and she had no way to articulate what that was. It was beyond anything she’d ever felt before and it left her at a loss.

She brushed his hair back from his eyes, shocked at her own move. She hadn’t really intended to touch him, but now it was too late. 

His eyebrows drew together, in confusion or upset she couldn’t tell, but he continued to stare over her head. 

She brought her other hand up to bracket his face, and then looked at him. He looked so pained. She took a huge involuntary breath in, her thumbs running along his cheekbones and then pressed the lightest of kisses to the dimple of his chin. She pulled back and looked at him again.

“Clarke…” he said, so uncertain, his eyes closed against her, but his brow smooth again.

“Shhh,” she said. “It’s okay, Bellamy. I know.” She stroked his cheek again and then sat up on her knees so she could reach, and kissed his closed eyelids. First one, then the other.

His breathing calmed down. The anguish on his face faded. She pulled him close, resting his head on her chest, kneeling in front of him.

“Okay?” she asked.

He nodded against her collarbone. “Okay,” he said. She felt it against her skin more than heard it. 

Her lips curved into a smile again. This was how things fell into place.


End file.
